


Order of Succession

by Writer Awakened (WriterAwakened)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Combat, Crimson Flower, Ferdinand just can't wait to be king, Ferdinand vs Edelgard, Gen, General, I mean emperor, Minor Spoilers, Post-Game(s), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:08:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29246337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterAwakened/pseuds/Writer%20Awakened
Summary: In Emperor Edelgard’s Adrestia, leadership isn’t given: it’s taken. Several years after the war, Ferdinand challenges the emperor to a duel with all the cards on the table and the entire empire at stake.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	Order of Succession

“Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg. I, Ferdinand von Aegir, head of House Aegir, Minister of Education, hereby formally challenge you to a duel.”

The right gauntlet of the duke clanked at the feet of the emperor and shuddered before coming to a stop, fingers curled upward. The entire room fell silent. The golden eagle on the far wall, bathed in crimson, looked down with bated breaths, waiting for a response from the emperor or the imperial guards who had taken their places on either side of the hall. The emperor herself sat upon her throne, sitting at the very edge of the seat that was her birthright. After a moment, she smiled.

“Very well. I, Edelgard von Hresvelg, accept your challenge.” Calmly, she rose from her throne and handed Ferdinand back his gauntlet. The guardsmen and women exchanged looks uneasily, unsure if they were witnessing another of the duke’s toothless displays of braggadocio, or if history would paint this moment as a turning point in Adrestian history.

In fact, even after the war had ended and Ferdinand had officially succeeded his father as Duke Aegir, he’d continued to challenge the emperor to matches in the sparring halls of the imperial palace. Dressed in casual clothes, they fought to a touch, and the results were always lopsided in Edelgard’s favor. It became a joke of sorts in the ranks of the Imperial Guard, every week checking their timepieces impatiently waiting for the arrival of Ferdinand the Persistent and his declarations that as Minister of Education, he would “educate” Edelgard on the art of truly noble fighting.

The selfsame guards, standing sentinel there in the throne hall, knew acutely from the moment they’d assembled to introduce the emperor and then the duke, that this was not a joke or a casual invitation to a spar. For six months prior, the regular invitations from Duke Aegir had ceased. Reports came in of Ferdinand’s frequent travels to cities across the empire, from the mainland to the provinces of Faerghus and Leicester. His crusade was to oversee construction of new schools in every region in Fodlan, and accomplishing the unenviable endeavor of transitioning ten percent of the imperial military to civilian positions as professors or local government administrators. He was known to spend long, long nights filtering through paperwork and writing correspondences, and returning to his estate in the witching hour—with the light of the moon or without it.

Now three years after the war that unified Fòdlan, the Ferdinand von Aegir that stood before the throne of the Adrestian Empire was a different man than the one who had assumed his imprisoned father’s title. The duke had specifically called for the emperor to sit on the throne of the empire, an act of formality which she typically abhorred. He had come not in his casual attire, but in a steel breastplate worn beneath the waistcoat and cape he had worn during the war, now adorned even further with golden epaulets and the several medals of bravery he’d earned for his heroism. He had thrown down his gauntlet, something he’d never done even in his most overconfident and flamboyant of moods. He had made his request a formality.

“Emperor Edelgard. Today I will prove myself worthy.” Ferdinand stood tall and stared directly into his emperor’s eyes. “I have strove for three years to surpass you. Today I will prove that I am made of sterner stuff than you have ever realized. I _will_ prove victorious. This I swear.”

Edelgard merely nodded.

\- O -

For three years, Edelgard had searched for a successor to the throne of Adrestia. At war’s end, she had told her teacher in confidence that she would not simply leave the rule of the empire to her issue, no matter how many she might be blessed with. She would lead the empire for as long as it needed her, and serve for as long as she might serve usefully. Still, for three years, she had watched carefully to see if anyone anywhere in Fòdlan would display the dedication, responsibility, and aptitude worthy of serving as shepherd of their country. Undoubtedly there would be scrutiny of her appointment, whether or not it turned out to be, in the end, a noble. Every last decision would be scrutinized to make sure she didn’t turn traitor to her philosophy of merit over breeding. It was for that reason that the emperor wanted to be certain.

Edelgard knew as soon as the steel hand struck the floor. She’d been expecting that moment. She’d expected it sooner. As important a role as Minister of Education was, and as dedicated to his duties as he seemed to be, she fully expected Ferdinand to salivate at the chance to bring his lofty ideals to the emperor’s seat. Instead, she had waited three years, and now stood in the throne hall staring down a man whose stare had grown far more intimidating.

After taking the time to arm and prepare themselves, the two combatants reconvened, now accompanied by the members of the former Black Eagle Strike Force, including her teacher, as well as the newest Minister of Military Affairs, Caspar von Bergleiz.

“I am glad you decided to don your regalia,” Ferdinand said. With his free hand, Ferdinand gestured to her golden imperial armor, her eagle-adorned shield, and her weapon. He carried at his side a longsword crafted by the foremost blacksmith in Enbarr. Its silver-white steel edge caught the light and held it.

For the first time since the war—and, she hoped, the very last—Edelgard had retrieved Aymr from its place in the imperial storehouse. Its crest stone had long since shattered and crumbled to dust, but even without the nauseatingly powerful aura that it once bore, it was in its own right an enormous and intimidating weapon. She had never, ever wanted to see it again: it was a symbol of the “patronage” of those she despised, whose deep roots she was quietly severing, one at a time, behind the curtains of the world stage. Even holding Aymr again and feeling its artifice in the palm of her hand disturbed her. For the sake of this battle, she was willing to endure it.

“Ferdinand. If you truly wish to defeat me, you mustn’t hold back. Are you prepared to die? Are you prepared to kill your own emperor!?”

“I will do whatever it takes.” He took his stance.

“Then prepare yourself! Caspar! On your mark!”

“Right!” Caspar said, raising his hand. “Combatants.. _.to arms_!”

At the signal, Ferdinand rushed forward, wasting little time in bringing his sword to bear. In the shadow of the imperial throne, sword steel and ax edge clashed with a resounding scraping sound and a flicker of sparks. With little respect for a brutal counterattack, Ferdinand pressed his advantage, thrusting his blade so fast that the emperor could do little but bunker herself behind her shield and wait for an opening.

Every clash of sword on shield sent a pang of pain through Edelgard’s arm, until at last it buckled under the strain, leaving just enough space for Ferdinand to slip his blade past it, leaving a solid mark on Edelgard’s armor just beneath the neck.

With a yelp of surprise, Edelgard stumbled backwards. Determined to press his advantage, Ferdinand stormed forward again, prepared to lunge; at that moment, Edelgard sprung the trap. She lowered her head and her shoulder behind her shield and rushed forward, throwing the full weight of her armor towards him. Utterly unprepared for the swift counter, Ferdinand staggered back, barely keeping the grip on his sword. Now on his back foot, he began to see Aymr brandished at its full power, swung to the side in a tremendous arc. Every time he tried to outflank Edelgard at the very end of her long swipes, she managed to stop Aymr’s momentum and bring it swinging back the other way, leaving Ferdinand without an opening to return to the offensive.

Fatigue was setting in. The duke’s every movement slowed. The grip on his blade was beginning to yield. In the face of another seemingly tireless sweep of Edelgard’s ax, he decided that he would not win the war of attrition. He dashed forward, looking for one decisive thrust to break her defenses—then, as suddenly and swiftly as a tempest, she brought her steel crashing down on his chest. Ferdinand screamed, flung backwards by the concussion of the Aymr’s edge, and hit the ground of the throne hall as a shudder of pain surged through him. He didn’t even make an effort to get up. As the shock of the fall faded away, he only smiled.

“Well fought...Ferdinand.”

The emperor set her shield and her weapon on her throne, and strode forward to the fallen figure of her opponent. She offered her hand, and with some difficulty, Ferdinand managed to rise and balance on chattering knees.

They were both quickly surrounded by the rest of the Black Eagles as well as the members of the imperial guard, who had all been standing and watching, pushing for one side or the other. Both were covered in sweat and breathing heavily, but they were both alive and unharmed.

“I admit defeat,” Ferdinand finally said.

“You fought valiantly, Ferdinand. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of. I daresay you haven’t lost a step since the end of the war.”

“You flatter me, Your Majesty. Seeing you move so artfully in full plate once again was a sight to behold.”

“Feel free to challenge me again any time. I’ll be prepared.”

“No. I think not.”

“Hm?”

Ferdinand bowed, a look of quiet contentment flush on his weary face. “After all this time, I was still unable to even _approach_ victory. No matter how much I struggle, I am still no closer to besting you. And so...I will admit. Now, unequivocally, you are my better on the field of battle. I cannot defeat you, and no longer will I try.”

The Black Eagles circling around the combatants looked on with a combination of amusement and disappointment, Caspar chief among them.

“Whaaat? Seriously, Ferdinand? Don’t give up _that_ easily. Do some more training and get back in there! You’re never going to win if you just give u—”

“Don’t misunderstand. I have no intention of ‘giving up’.”

Ferdinand stared Edelgard straight in the eyes, and the emperor stared back.

“I’ve dedicated myself to the task of ushering in a new era of enlightenment for Fòdlan. I swore that I would help lay the foundation of a brighter future. I will be a diplomat, a scholar, an orator. I will redefine what it means to be ‘noble’, even if it means reshaping and renewing every belief I have ever held and stood for. I still maintain that I am your equal, Emperor Edelgard, and though I stand on the battlefield as your inferior, I will sculpt a legacy to rival even yours. Without your strength standing before me, I would have not had such a magnificent target to aim for. I will rise to your every expectation of me and shatter them.

“You will see. This loss is only the beginning. When all is said and done, if not your superior, then I will stand as your equal, as your loyal ally until the day I draw my last breath. I will guide you, as only a true friend could. But for today, the day is yours.”

The golden eagle framing the long hall yet watched. It too listened rapt to the soliloquy that had cowed the rest of the room into silence.

At last, Edelgard’s patient expression turned to a broad smile.

“On the contrary, Ferdinand. The day is yours.”

Edelgard turned to Hubert, who had been watching along with the rest.

“Hubert, let it be known. Today, on the first day of the Great Tree Moon, I, Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg, sovereign of the Adrestian Empire, do formally proclaim the Duke of Aegir and Minister of Education, Ferdinand von Aegir, the rightful heir to the throne on merit of deeds. When the day comes that you are ready to assume my duties, let me know, and I shall hand you the crown of the emperor myself.”

No one in the room looked more surprised than Ferdinand, not even Hubert, who himself was plenty disturbed.

“Your...Majesty? Are you certain? I wonder if this judgment is perhaps a bit...sudden?”

Edelgard shook her head. “No, Hubert. It’s not sudden at all. Actually, I had long expected this moment would come. The one man whom I had hoped would demonstrate not only the deeds and the will, but also the comportment of a leader. If you are truly dedicated to serving as an enlightened ruler, I eagerly await your reign.”

“Your Majesty...” Ferdinand opened his mouth and closed it several times, considering his words carefully. “I will live up to your lofty expectations. As long as I have the support of you and our dear friends, I have no doubt. I will build a peaceful foundation for Fòdlan that will stand a millennium.”

Elation settled over the room. Not only her allies but tens of emperors past looked on in admiration of the heralding of a new era.

In the months to follow, Ferdinand spent many hours settling his affairs in order: walking among the people, visiting the former lords of the land of Fòdlan, both great and small, all in preparation of his new life as shaper of his own destiny. And in those same months, Edelgard settled as many affairs of the empire as she possibly could, in preparation of her new life as just her.

**Author's Note:**

> The characterization in a story like this is so hard to nail down properly. Did I pull it off? Let me know!


End file.
